


In case I stand one little chance

by Hazel75



Series: We Need a Little Christmas [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, More holiday fluff, Music, working
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/pseuds/Hazel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye buys Coulson some Christmas records for his office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In case I stand one little chance

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?" off of Ella Fitzgerald's Swinging Christmas. Which is an awesome album.

Skye's made herself at home in his office when Coulson walks in a couple of mornings after their cooking lesson.  The Christmas tree is lit, and she's already taken care of the record player although it seems to take him a moment to place what he's hearing.  Feeling somewhat satisfied at having stumped him momentarily, Skye holds up the sleeve to an old Jim Nabors Christmas album.

 

" _Where_ did you find that, Skye?"

 

"Local record shop.  They actually had a lot of great vintage Christmas albums.  I remembered what you said the other night and thought it might be a nice blast from the past." 

 

"Wow.  This takes me back," Coulson says softly, settling into his desk chair. 

 

"The good kind of taking back, I hope." Skye looks at him carefully, shifting in her chair.  Coulson isn't exactly the oversharing type, and she hopes she didn't overstep her bounds. 

 

"Yeah, the good kind.  The very good kind.  Good memories."  He leans back in his chair, smiling.   

 

"Good.  Because I also found Andy Williams, Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby."  Coulson raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face.  "I couldn't help it.  I have a really good memory, and they had them all.  And they were such a really good deal."  She speaks in a rush, feeling a little defensive, because now that's she here and she's told him, she thinks she may have gone a little bit overboard.  Her cheeks feel a little hot, and she hopes that Coulson doesn't notice.  

 

Coulson laughs and gets back up to go check out the new records.  "No, no need to explain, Skye.  I think it's really sweet."

 

Skye wrinkles her nose.  Sweet?  What does that mean?  Sweet, like, Skye, you're a giant weirdo, but I don't want to tell you so.  Sweet, like I'm letting you down easy because I care about you, but you've totally misread what's been going on.  Skye's pretty sure sweet's not doing it for her.  She goes back to her work and tries not to feel like an overeager girl with her first crush. 

 

She peeks up to see Coulson taking his time looking over the albums, turning each one over to look at the song list.  He doesn't look freaked out so that's good at least.  He glances over his shoulder and says, "I think we'll listen to the Ella Fitzgerald next.  I'm not sure I remember this one, but an Ella album called a "A Swinging Christmas" has got to be good." 

 

Skye relaxes and smiles to herself.  Maybe she isn't an idiot after all.  "Yeah, I was intrigued by that one.  But I had to listen to Jim Nabors first since I didn't even know until the other night that he sang.  You were right, though, nice voice, even if it's not really my style."

 

Coulson returns to his chair, sitting down and looking through the papers on his desk.  This time Skye gets back to work in earnest.  After a little while the record finishes, and Coulson gets up to change it.  He raises the volume a little and the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald's clear voice singing about dashing the snow fill the office.  Skye smiles to herself; this is totally Coulson's style.  Kind of hers, too, although she hadn't known it until a few months ago. 

 

After the second track, Coulson gets up from his desk and comes around to where she's sitting.  When she looks up at him, he has a hand outstretched and a very smug and self-assured look on his face.

 

"What?  You want to dance to 'Santa Claus Is Coming to Town'?  Really, Coulson?"  He lifts his chin in the affirmative.  She takes his hand, shaking her head, and rises.

 

As they sway back and forth, Skye finds herself wishing she knew how to really dance.  She knows Coulson can because, of course, he can.  He's Coulson and he knows these things.  Whatever, though, she can hold his hand, touch his chest and pretend.    

 

"What's gotten into you, lately?" she asks, cocking her head back a little to look at him. 

 

He looks back at her his face now solemn (and he can be very solemn), tightening the arm around her waist, but still moving. "We had it brought home recently in a horrible way that what we do is very dangerous.  We don't have any guarantees about the future.  I'm trying to stop putting off until tomorrow what I can do today."  

 

Skye doesn't know quite what to say to that so she contents herself with laying her head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers and his hand firm her back.  He smells of soap and starch and aftershave because, of course, Coulson would wear aftershave, she thinks smiling to herself.  They would make an interesting picture to anyone who walked in: dancing, him in his dark suit complete with handkerchief and tie, her in a t-shirt and jeans.  He's not wrong, though: the music does lend itself to dancing, nice jazzed-up versions of Christmas standards.  She wonders if this is just him being comfortable with her and wanting to cut loose a little.  Her intuition tells her there's more to this, and she thinks maybe the next move is hers.    

 

After a few minutes, Skye pulls back a bit to look at his face again to see what she can find there.  Coulson has a small smile on his otherwise very sober-looking face.  He returns her gaze, though, holding her eyes with his, and she feels so _warm_.  This close in the bright light she can see all the lines on his face, the sum product of all his experiences.  Before she can overthink things, she raises her right hand, which had been resting on his chest, to graze lightly the lines on his forehead before touching her thumb to the wrinkles by his eye.  She thinks how some people do all they can to erase these signs of a lifetime lived before moving to lightly trace the deep groove that runs from the side of his nose down by his mouth with her forefinger.    

 

Coulson clears his throat.  "Making a catalogue of all the evidence of my age, Skye?" he says, voice a little huskier than usual, one corner of his mouth turned up just a hopeful bit.

 

Touching his cheek, she replies, "No, thinking about how the whole can be greater than the sum of its parts.  How, while I really like all the individual pieces that make you who you are, it's the whole package I love."

 

She realizes what she's just said, and she stops moving.  She also realizes the music has come to an end although how long ago she's unsure.  She resists an urge to turn away, to back off, and keeps her eyes on him.  As she looks on, Coulson's face changes.  He looks _happy_.  She feels like there should be a bigger word, but happy is what she sees and happy is enough. 

 

" _Skye_." 

 

He takes his hand from hers and brushes the side of her face with a ghost of a touch before threading his fingers through her hair, cradling her head gently, fingers on her scalp.  His eyes are soft and heavy; his lips, parted in a smile. 

 

Returning his smile, Skye rises on her feet to press her lips to his, softly at first and then more firmly.  He tightens his hold on her and returns the pressure, opening his mouth under hers.  She takes in his breath, before slipping her tongue into his mouth, touching his teeth and exploring his mouth, pushing her tongue against his unhurriedly.  He tastes of toothpaste and coffee, and she thinks there's never been such a nice combination.  She sucks gently on his tongue and then his lower lip as he backs her up, both of them stumbling but unwilling to let go of the other, until the back of her legs hit the couch. 

 

They sit down (fall) awkwardly side-by-side as she drags her mouth from his down to his chin, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline until she reaches his ear.  Taking the lobe into her mouth and nibbling gently, he moans which causes a shiver to run up her spine.  His hands tug her shirt out of her jeans and reach underneath, one hand sliding around her ribcage to dart up her spine while the other stays splayed across her stomach.  It's good.  She's only realizing now just how much she wanted to be touched, to be felt by him.  He helps her straddle his lap, pressing himself against her. 

 

Returning her mouth to his, she tugs at his tie with one hand, while the other works on the buttons of his shirt.  She know (he knows) this isn't the time or the place, but that thought is crowded out by her desire to feel _him_.  Finally, she's able to slide her hands inside his shirt, to feel his chest against her hands, to run her fingers through the soft, short hair she finds there.  It's his turn to shiver as she slides her thumb, gently but purposefully, along the scar in the center of his chest.  As she presses her groin against his, he bucks beneath her, and she gasps his name because it's almost enough.  He moves his hand to her breast, at first running his palm over her bra and then pinching her nipple gently, causing her breath to hitch and her teeth to close on his bottom lip.  She's moving his other hand down to unbutton her jeans when his phone rings. 

 

They freeze, panting into each others' mouth, while the phone rings and rings and rings before going to voicemail.  "This is probably a good time to stop," she breathes into his mouth. 

 

"That depends on what you mean by good, I suppose," Coulson says darting his tongue into her mouth. Skye gives him one more deep kiss, tasting his mouth again before she crawls off his lap to sit next to him, leaning back against the couch.  She looks at him taking in the picture he makes, running his tongue over his bottom lip, hair a mess, short of breath with his shirt open and chest exposed.  It's a nice picture.  She's pretty sure her state mirrors his fairly closely.  She suddenly starts giggling, which turns into laughter and she still can't catch her breath. 

 

With his head still against the back of the couch, Coulson turns to look at her with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.  "What?"

 

"I was thinking earlier what an odd picture we would make if anyone happened to walk in and see us dancing to Christmas music. Well, if that was odd, this is something else entirely."

 

He sits up and cuts his eyes to her, giving her a fake-offended look before bringing his hands up to fix his shirt.  She stops him with a hand on his arm and gets on her knees next to him.  Placing his hands on his legs, Skye buttons his shirt herself, fixing his tie back around his neck and pulling the lapels of his jacket close.  

 

"All better, Director," she pronounces, which they both know isn't exactly true.  He puts a hand behind her neck and pulls her close, kissing her softly. 

 

"This isn't over, you know," he says, standing and giving her his best smug look.  It's slightly marred by his very pink lips and still mussed hair. 

 

Skye takes his hand in hers and stands, tucking her shirt back into her jeans, before running her hands through his hair and trying to comb it back into place.  "I hope not.  I was just getting started," she says with her own answering smirk.

 

 "And, you know, I meant what I said before, Coulson," she says, slipping her arms around his waist and looking up at him.  "I do, I love you." 

 

He raises his hands to her face, cradling her jaw, thumbs stroking her cheeks.  "I know.  And I do, too. Love you, that is."

 

She tugs him closer, and he enfolds her in a tight hug.  They stay like this for long minutes before separating. 

 

Skye settles back into her chair, as Coulson walks over to the record player and turns the record over, replacing the needle.  As Ella starts to sing again, he sits back down at his desk.  As they both work, she glances up often to him looking at her with something that's a little bit wonder and a little bit joy.  And she finds herself thinking how happy she is to have him to look forward to.  


End file.
